


The Dames At Dinner

by afteriwake



Series: Lipstick & Lab Coats, CIA & Cartels [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:12:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4655661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dames are out enjoying dinner at one of their favorite restaurants when a man begins to cause a disturbance and they swoop in to rescue a woman from an unpleasant situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dames At Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> And now I've gotten to come back to this series! ::cheers:: This particular fic was inspired by an anonymous prompt on my Tumblr that asked _Would you be interested in a prompt of Molly having a girl's night with Mrs. H, Mary, and Irene? I think they'd make a great team. Perhaps they go to dinner and rescue a lady on a date with a horrid man? (Ah! The pathologist, the assassin, the blackmailer, the former head of a cartel!)_ This was kind of the prompt that inspired the whole series, but I wanted to do this story second. Enjoy!

At least twice a month the Dames met at The Rib Room. It was a restaurant that Mrs. Hudson had been fond of and so Irene treated the woman to dinner there, no matter the cost. It was quite nice for the four of them to experience quality food at a very elegant restaurant and not have to worry about footing the bill. Irene, Mary and Mrs. Hudson were already seated, waiting for Molly to join them. "She said she was running late," Mary said.

"Did she say how late?" Irene asked as a waiter approached them. Then she saw Molly arriving, tugging down her dress slightly, and she smiled. "Never mind. Here she is.

"Sorry I'm late," Molly said, leaning over and giving each woman a quick kiss on the cheek. "My day has been...ugh. It was hellish. And it's going to stay that way for a while." 

The waiter approached them. "Are you having your usuals?" he asked.

"Oh course, Bernard," Irene said. "Let's give Molly some time to decide what she wants, though."

"Of course," he replied with a nod. They came to this restaurant often enough that most of them had a particular order: Irene and Mary would split a serving of twelve Loch Fyne Angel oysters while Mrs. Hudson got the prawn cocktail for their starters, and then Irene would have the Wagyu rib eye steak, Mary would have the Adam cut roast rib of Aberdeen Angus beef with Yorkshire pudding and Mrs. Hudson would have a whole lobster thermidor to herself. Molly was always the surprise in the group, usually ordering something off the Seasonally Modern menu. And then, when it came to dessert, they ordered two servings of the dessert taster and sampled whatever they felt like eating along with a glass each of Château Delmond, Sauternes, Bordeaux, France 2010. 

"I think I'll have the English pea velouté, goat’s cheese gnocchi with truffle crème fraîche to start, and the duck egg, wild garlic, asparagus, shallot compote and truffle velouté and rack of lamb as my main courses," Molly said after a moment, handing her menu to the waiter. He nodded and then moved away from the table. “Why do you always order the same things when we come here?” she asked the others, picking up her glass of water. “I thought the point of going to expensive restaurants was to sample a wide variety of foods.”

“Well, this place has my expensive comfort foods,” Mary said with a grin. “John isn’t fond of oysters, so this is the only chance I really get to have them.”

“And besides, you let us all steal a bite or two from you,” Irene pointed out. “So it isn’t as though we aren’t getting to sample the wares. But isn’t that order a bit much? I mean, that is three courses.”

“I’m only going to eat half of it now,” she said. “I have an early day tomorrow and I figured I would take some of it with me tomorrow for lunch.”

“The lamb should taste good, though I’m not sure about the truffles,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“I was going to save some of the gnocchi,” Molly said with a grin. “But I am a bit peckish tonight. I had to work through my lunch.”

“Oh? Anything important going on?” Mary asked.

“Mass murder last night,” Molly said. “I had six victims when I came in this morning. Only got through five autopsies, hence the early morning tomorrow.”

“I read about that in the papers,” Irene said. “That’s the type of case they’d have Sherlock on, is it not?”

“He was at the morgue off and on today, around the time I finished each autopsy. Brought me crisps or biscuits each time so I at least had _something_ in my stomach,” she said.

“How thoughtful of him,” Mrs. Hudson said with a smile.

Molly nodded. “Oh yes. That’s the only reason I’m not entirely ravenous right now.”

Mary was going to say something when she heard a sharp curse from a nearby table. All four women turned their head to see a man with a red face glaring at a woman. He looked quite angry and the woman looked very startled. He was talking in a low tone and clearly the woman looked scared. “That’s concerning,” Mary murmured.

“I don’t like the looks of him,” Mrs. Hudson said, flinching slightly when the man spat out a curse.

“Perhaps we should intervene?” Molly suggested, looking around the table.

Irene nodded. “Mary, I think you and I can handle this. Molly, why don’t you signal for Bernard and have him come over? I think the gentleman won’t want to be in the restaurant much longer but he may need help out.” She took the napkin off her lap and Mary did the same, and the two women stood and moved to the table.

“…you’re a sack of shit, you know that, Clary?” the man was saying to the woman.

“But George, I swear, there’s nothing going on,” she said.

George went to pull back his fist but Mary got behind him, putting her hand over it and pulling his arm into an uncomfortable position. “I’m afraid my friend and I couldn’t help but see you’re intimidating this poor woman,” Irene said, looking down at the man. He glared up at her. “George, is it?”

“Who the bloody hell are you?”

“That’s not important,” Irene said with a smile, pulling out her mobile and snapping a picture of him. She sent it to her contact in MI-6 and then looked back at the man. “I don’t like seeing women mistreated. Now, I’m going to suggest you get up and _calmly_ leave this restaurant without making a scene. Or, if you choose not to, Mary can make sure you crawl out of here with the assistance of that waiter over there.” She pointed towards her table, where Molly had brought Bernard over and then looked down at her mobile again. Her contact was quite quick. “I would recommend you choose to walk out of here on your own two feet, Mr. Feldman.”

George blinked. “How did you know my surname?”

“I know all sorts of things about you,” she said.

“You bloody bitch,” he said, glaring at Irene. “You women, you’re all the same.”

Mary increased her grip on the man’s fist and wrenched his arm more. “If you try and get out of my grip so help me I’ll break your arm and make you blubber like a baby,” Mary said. “I don’t take kindly to men who raise their fists at women, especially oafs who do it in public.”

He winced in pain and then looked at Mary. “Let me go,” he said, his voice nearly pleading.

“Are you going to leave here like a good gentleman and not cause this woman any more problems?” Irene asked. Then she paused and turned to the woman. “If that’s what you want.”

“You can get him to bugger off and pretend he never met me?” the woman asked curiously.

“If he wants to make sure the managers at his bank never find out about his shady deals I can make sure of it,” Irene said with a nod, watching as George’s face went pale.

“Then yes. I don’t ever want to see or hear from him again,” the woman said.

“You heard her. You make any move towards her and not only will your superiors find out but the government will make a move on you as well,” Irene said. She nodded to Mary and Mary let his hand go. He looked at the three women with wide eyes and then bolted from the restaurant. Then Irene turned to the woman. “Clary, right?”

Clary nodded. “Clary Hamilton.”

“I’m Irene Alder,” she said with a smile. “This is Mary Watson. Would you care to join us and our friends for dinner tonight? We’d be most pleased to have you as our guest.”

Clary smiled widely. “I…yes, thank you. I’d like that very much.”

Irene nodded and then led the way back to the table. Molly looked up at her with a grin as she saw that Bernard had already rearranged the place settings and brought over a fifth chair. “I had the feeling you’d invite her over. You always do,” Molly said with a grin.

“It does get to be a habit, doesn’t it?” Irene said with a soft chuckle as she sat back at her seat.

“Well, it does make our dinners very interesting, I’ll say that much,” Molly said with a grin. Then she turned to Clary. “Hi! I’m Molly Hooper.”

“I’m Martha Hudson,” Mrs. Hudson said, introducing herself as well.

“Hello,” Clary said, sitting in the vacant chair. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Clary.”

“Pleasure to meet you too, Clary,” Molly said warmly. She looked around the table. “So. I suppose we all might want to get better acquainted. So I’ll start.” And then she launched into telling a bit more about herself for Clary’s benefit, reflecting on the fact that when the Dames went out to dinner it was certainly never dull.


End file.
